Broken
by the lola
Summary: Bellatrix can not, and will not face the truth that her Lord is gone.


A/N- This is obviously AU, written as if Bellatrix survived but Voldemort didn't.

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Bellatrix paced up and down the courtyard, refusing to let the truth sink in. She would refuse Rodolphus, Cissy, Lucius or any other interfering and _disloyal_ servants interaction until he was back - and he _would_ be back. She nodded to reassure herself, and clamped her teeth down harder on her already chapped lips. It wouldn't do to cry right now... what would her Lord think? Tears are for the weak - they don't mean you're loosing, they mean you've already lost.

And that was what she absolutely refused to admit. She had not lost because he was not gone... he would never be gone, he was _immortal! _She narrowed her obsidian eyes and clenched her fists at her sides. How utterly dense was everyone to believe that their Lord was _dead_? It was completely and utterly ridiculous.

But then again, she smirked to herself, it proved just how loyal she was - she was _the_ most loyal servant of the Dark Lord, and when he came back - which he would - he would reward her just like he had yesterday. That was now the only thing that would keep her going while she waited for her Lord to return.

She stopped her pacing, turning around to gaze upon the vast and beautiful Malfoy gardens. Well, nothing was truly beautiful without _him..._ he was the only beautiful thing. Constantly for the past three hours whilst she had paced, she had expected him to just come gliding through the gardens and grip her waist, pull her hair, nip her neck, rip her cl-

_-No_. She had to stop. He wasn't going to materialize in front of her eyes today, or tomorrow... but he would eventually. After all, he was her king and a king never dies. But what was the point in her existance without him? She was born to serve... it was her aim and it always had been. She had waited in Azkaban for long years, was that to be her fate again?

Surely not. After all of these years, all of his promises and her loyalty - the only truly faithful servant, rotting in Azkaban was not what she deserved. She would, of course, if she _had_ to... but really, hadn't it stolen all of her sanity already?

As hands gripped her waist from behind, she jolted with fright.

"Bella, I didn't mean to scare you-" Rodolphus stuttered.

She spun around, and the face of her disaster of a husband merged with _his_ - her Lords. "My... my Lord." She whispered, eyes glinting.

"Bella, no-" He gripped her waist harder, but from the front this time.

"I knew you would come back... you could never die." She smiled maniacally as the image in front of her twisted between her husband and her Lord. He was here... he was back just like she knew he would be.

"It's me..." Rodolphus said in a harsh whisper.

"I am the only one that believed in you! Your _only_ loyal servant."

Rodolphus grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, desperate for her not to return to the insane state she slipped in and out of. "It's **me**, Bella. Me, Rodolphus, your husband!"

And she blinked rapidly as the image in front of her stopped twisting and the voice regained a normal pitch - that horrifying burning at the back of her eyes built up again as the reality hit her with full force. "He's dead... My Lord," She choked, her voice saturated with desperation.

All her husband could do was star at his wife as she buckled and broke over the loss of the one she truly loved. He attempted to wrap his arms around her frail figure, "Bella, it's okay..."

"No, get away from me!" She hissed, shoving him away with full force.

"Bella..." He attempted again.

"No, leave!" Her eyes flashed dangerously, the tears now replaced by fury.

There was nothing he could say or do to make the situation better, so he stayed silent and made his way back to the Manor.

The emptiness and the loneliness of the gardens hit Bellatrix once Rodolphus was gone. She clenched her fists until her nails pierced her flesh, and screamed out to the hollow gardens in anguish. Grabbing her wand from her robe pocket, she thrust it around the garden, burning all the bushes and trees and anything that held colour to black. Once done she continued through to the rose bushes and walked carelessly through them, allowing the thorns to pierce her skin.

An hour later, she was sitting in between the rose bushes. Blood dripped down her arms and streaked across her legs, still running from the various gashes and scrapes caused by the thorns. Strangely and sadistically, it was relief. She was broken inside, and it wasn't right because she didn't _do_ broken. But now, she was literally broken - broken and bleeding and not bothered about her life.

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A/N- This was written for the Choice Pairings Competition, we have to write about a different pairing of the competition owners choice each round and this round was Bellatrix/Voldemort. Then, we have to pick two prompts from a list. My chosen prompts were 'a king never dies' and 'broken', I don't find Bellatrix the easiest person to write so I hope you guys liked this - don't forget to review lovelys! :)


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